Hobocamp

Monday, January 14, 2008

So my roommate is in a brownie bake-off with a friend. She's been combing recipes and experimenting with ingredients with the intensity of a grant-supported laboratory scientist. I fully support this endeavor for two reasons:

1) She is a fantastic baker and I think she will win win win

2) Brownies everywhere. Lucky me, lucky my coworkers.

Anyway, I toted the most recent batch to work this morning, and one of my favorite doctors was in the lounge when I dropped them off. He and I sat down to have a cup of coffee and chit chat a bit, and in the course of our conversation about how much of a burden it is to always be putting so much money in to his daughter's checking account because GOSH it gets low so quickly! And she never notices and overdraws constantly! And oh, the fees. But what are you going to do, right?

Uh, right. BE MY DAD. But anyway.

He reached for a brownie and started chewing. "Very good," he said. "You make these?"

"Nope, my roommate did."

Still munching away at his brownie, he smiled. "You know," he whispered conspiratorially, "Whenever I see brownies, I am reminded of college. We ate some special brownies back then."

"Oh yeah?" I said in a tone that I THOUGHT implied I knew EXACTLY what he was talking about.

"Yes! You see, back in the seventies, we used to get high by baking hash into brownies."

I guess I need to work on my tones.

"Yeah, we used to do that too. From 1999 till 2003. I guess some people still do now, but I ca-"

"No, no. Ours had marijuana in them!"

"Uh. Oh! You...you guys were REBELS. Ha! Wow, right?"

He nodded smugly. "Oh yeah."

************************************************************************************

So we are moving offices at work. I share an office nowadays with two older ladies and one of them in particular is FUSSY TO THE MAX so this moving process has been really dramatic and traumatic and OH MY GOD THE HUMANITY of it all, or so she'd have you believe. She's one of those people who reads every single email/article/greeting card/whatever out loud to me, and then scoots her chair over to my desk to read MY emails over my shoulder and comment on them. And she kind of smells. And she thinks all immigrants should be deported and she hates anyone of a different faith. But whatever. SEE HOW I AM NOT COMPLAINING???

It was a corporate move which is an amazing thing to me. We were only going four doors down from where we were, and yet we had personal movers who delivered boxes to us, packed us up, and put everything in place in our new offices. The only thing I had to do was remember to go to the new office on Monday morning. Of course, I forgot, but I realized my mistake really quickly!

Anyway, my officemate was tweaking out about this whole move like you would not believe. Apparently, it's like the worst most awful thing ever. She stuck to the poor mover guy like white on rice, and he was visibly sweating with the effort it took to not punch her in the junk. Maybe I'm projecting. It matters not.

So, because I don't care and I wanted to make his day a little less horrifying, I gave no particulars when it came to packing up my stuff. I probably should have been more vigilant, as the first thing he did was open the drawer that held my Tampon and Lip Gloss stash. Sorry guy!

But anyway...

"You can just put whatever you want wherever you want," I said breezily. "I really don't care. I'll deal with it in the new office."

"Are you sure? Ms________ had a lot of instructions...."

"Yes, well. I'm not Ms_________. Seriously, do whatever is easiest for you. I appreciate it. Thank you."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Miss."

I smiled magnanimously, proud of what a normal person I am. "No big thing!" Then I pranced off to another floor, propelled by caffeine and self-satisfaction.

I ended up working rather late that night, so when I finally returned to my office, everyone was gone and all my things were boxed up, taped, wrapped, and labeled. It was as clean as a whistle in there.

As is my custom, I tore off my scrubs so that I could change my clothes and run out of the building. I was actually already late for dinner with Kelsi. So, and you're going to learn a little too much about me here, at some point in my career I figured out that my scrubs are large enough that I can take them off without removing my shoes. It's just faster! And it inevitably ends up in this awkward condition where I'm clad in only underwear, keychain, and clogs, which is just some horrifyingly embarrassing Heidi's-All-Grown-Up-And-Back-From-The-Mountains-And-Maybe-A-Gym-Teacher (?) wet dream misfire, and as such makes me laugh! And I do it almost every day.

Anyway, I was in my office, I tore off my scrubs, reached into my clothes drawer and felt...drawer.

No shirt.

No pants.

No sweater.

Nothing.

Sonofagun had packed my clothes.

And WHY, dear readers? WHY had he packed them?

BECAUSE I AM A BIG DUMB CAVALIER IDIOT AND I DID NOT TELL HIM 'PLEASE SIR, DON'T PACK MY OUTSIDE THINGS!'

Yes, I was so enamored of myself for not being picky about the packing that I neglected to set aside certain items that I'd need later that day. Congratulations, Meg.

The hospital is pretty strict about wearing scrubs outside the grounds (as they should be- I go mad when I see people coming in from lunch and going straight to ORs without changing clothes because that is f-ing awful and not sterile and defeats the purpose) so I was too nervous to just strut out in my greens.

I turned around and faced a mountain of boxes. And that is when the Mr Jesus intervened.

One of the boxes on a shelf tumbled off at that exact moment, so I decided to crack it open before righting it. (It later occurred to me how it would have looked had someone chosen to unlock my office and come in at that moment: me in my small clothes and clogs kneeling on the floor going through cardboard boxes. "What are you doing, Meg?" "Totally not looking for my stash or anything! Nothing! I dont' know!")

Lo and behold, therein were my clothes.

"Glory be!" I said out loud, and then cursed myself for using a phrase of my mothers.

I dressed myself (proud?) sort of with one hand and texted Kelsi that I was leaving with the other, repacked the box (ish), and fled the building, hoping for the umpteenth time that my office didn't have hidden cameras.

Because god forbid.

Labels: accidents, i'm kind of a jerk, on the job, silly

posted by A Lover and a Fighter at 8:19 AM -

16 Comments:

At 4:09 PM, Yvo said…

Bwahahahahhaha "Totally not looking for my stash or anything!" HAHAHAHA....
BTW, I almost got arrested on Saturday night! Unfortunately I don't have a humor blog so I can't post about it to tell you. Le sigh. I think you'd appreciate my brain fart responses though.
At 4:40 PM, Maxine Dangerous said…

"Maybe I'm projecting. It matters not."

I'm totally stealing this phrase. :) I love your blog. Teach me how to be cool like you! :)
At 5:17 PM, a star in somebody else's sky said…

It later occurred to me how it would have looked had someone chosen to unlock my office and come in at that moment: me in my small clothes and clogs kneeling on the floor going through cardboard boxes. "What are you doing, Meg?"

Cue porno music HERE.
At 6:48 PM, fathima said…

i've always wished i could take off my pants without having to take off my shoes first.
only now you have shown me why that is not such a great idea.
At 7:43 PM, mindy said…

Ah Meg, you are so awkwardly, delightfully, charming!
At 8:14 PM, Peter DeWolf said…

So, the brownies...

They had DOPE in 'em???
At 6:52 AM, A Lover and a Fighter said…

Yvo- Tell me anyway! I can only assume you were almost arrested for drunk and disorderly.

Maxine- only if you first teach me how to write like you. your posts make me laugh like a goon.

Star- My goodness. Worst porn ever. Worse than that midget porn I saw once- Itty Bitty Bang Bang.

Fathima- To me, it is merely a bump in the road. I will persevere. I'm going to keep trying to take off my pants while leaving my shoes on.

Mindy- God bless you for saying that.

PdW- It would seem so.
At 9:17 AM, kelsi said…

but can you put your outside pants *on* over your clogs? because if not, it all seems like an exercise in futility. half naked futility.
At 9:21 AM, Garrett Reid said…

I was totally expecting this story to end in a different way. I was hoping for: At That Very Moment The Movers Come Back For Their Boxes Only to Be Shocked at the Sight of Megsy in Her Underpanties. Ever-Confident Meg Just Frantically Waves and Yells, "HELLO, BOYS" as She Struts Out Of The Office.

Or maybe: At That Very Moment Megsy, Crouched Over A Moving Box in Her Unmentionables, Looks to the Window Only to See The Hot Guy From the Window Cleaning Dangling About Outside, a Sly Look Upon His Face. [Cue the Music].
At 12:16 PM, TK said…

Only a shameless hussy prances around her office in her unmentionables.
At 1:48 PM, A Lover and a Fighter said…

Kelsi- I totally can. Putting them on is easier than taking them off but BOTH CAN BE DONE.

GR- Only in your dreams, baby. And your use of the word underpanties just made your dingle an innie.

TK- But I have so MUCH shame...
At 4:53 PM, Linus said…

Well hey. Some of us like half-naked futility. Or at least never manage to escape from it, quite.
At 11:27 AM, Hollywood Sucker said…

Glory Be indeed. Looks like things are going your way. I had a glory be moment, sort of, yesterday at work when my earring fell out into the trash can AFTER I'd taken out the nasty bag full of garbage, rather than before. And yeah, I take out the garbage at my office.

I think my Average American Gladiator name is Trash. Or maybe Dumpster, that has a better ring to it.
At 3:13 PM, Alaskan Dave Down Under said…

...hoping for the umpteenth time that my office didn't have hidden cameras.

Here's hoping they do have em!
At 11:47 AM, A Lover and a Fighter said…

Linus- Some of us enjoy it more when it doesn't happen at work.

HS- Dumpster and Pudge. Are there teams on AAG? And at my office I have to check to make sure the sub 80 freezer is still sub 80. Every day. And it always is. Every. Single. Day. That I have worked here. I'm super important! That freezer couldn't check itself! Am I right?

ADDU- oy. if they do, dibs on selling them.
At 1:22 AM, brazilian girls said…

Aside from the humour in knowing that g-d had given you enough of a hard time, and like an older brother finally relenting, showed you your clothes -

Besides that, I was highly amused that at first your doctor friend said he put hash in his brownies and then as a follow to make sure you understood his ~wildness~ (hah!), he then stated 'marijuana'. Very much two different things, and I'm quite amused that Mr. over-the-hill didn't differentiate between the two.

For the record, in my brownies I like hash more.